I'M A MAN, I'M A TWISTED FOOL,
MY HANDS ARE TWISTED, TOO,
FIVE FINGERS TWO BLACK HOOVES
MY HANDS ARE TWISTED, TOO,
FIVE FINGERS TWO BLACK HOOVES
Forces all over Novus had been put into motion — some of them his own doing, others had happened without his knowledge. The world was brewing and seething, and Denocte had been placed (once again) in the center of it. This time, though, The Night King was not interested in amends or relations, for he was certain in the knowledge that diplomacy would not aid their fair city of stars. Others, namely the stars to his eyes, Isorath, disagreed. The King Crow knew people though, knew when to push and press and when to retreat — knew when it was best to strike, to slip his sticky fingers into a pocket and retrieve what he needed without the target even knowing.
Dusk was riled, or rather, it's monarchy was. He did not regret breaking Lysanders face beneath his bloody fist, did not regret the way his blood had boiled and fizzed with the rush of it — it had been so long since he'd allowed himself to be less than civil, to be the King Crow his people knew. Now he was perched, satisfied, above the chaos that had been released. The old God would get better, so he'd heard, though the path to recovery would be a slow and painful one — long enough for the ex-God to reconsider who he smirked at.
Now it was time to re-assemble the Court.
Camdis' illness had put him aside and out of action during all of the turmoil, and the weight of Regent would have to be removed from his shoulders. They also needed an Emissary — he had both positions mulling in his mind, names swirling comfortably, ready to settle into stone.
The evening was tepid, clouds rumbling threateningly above their citadel as a storm promised it's arrival. The winds were starting to pick up, plucking at the ebony banners of night as Reichenbach stepped upon the stone castle steps — waiting for others to arrive. His Crows had spread the whisper, the news that a new Court would be rising tonight... and that if any wished to be a part of it, they should attend.
The wind picked at his ebony curls as he waited, taking his coins and jangling them erratically. Shadows curled at his nape and around his rough jaw as his Court slowly arrived, all of them beautiful and exotic — all of them his to protect, his to care for.
His heart was big enough for them all.
It was true that Night bred volatile love, it was chaos and a wildness that could not be contained — and it was brutal at times. But it also bred the most beautiful, the most inescapable and unforgettable. It was proven simply by looking at the crowd before him. His argent gaze wandered and slid from face to face, pausing at a porcelain figure only arriving now — his pearl, Isorath. A roguish smile appeared upon his black lips, his voice booming outward like thunder;
"Denocte!"
His smile grew, charming and buoyed by his people, their loyalty and their love of home.
"The forces of this world are moving, changing... reacting."
Reichenbach's piercing gaze honed in on the golden chaos that was Acton, then slid to Raum — he'd yet to be filled in on all the details of Bexley Briar's maiming... but they were his Crows, his boys, his family. If he had to fight a war to keep their heads, so be it.
"It is time we renew our ranks — with our current Regent, Camdis Lohir, stepping down, and Lothaire leaving us for new lands, we have some positions open."
A pause, his gaze roaming the crowds, seeking familiar faces.
"Aislinn Stormsinger, our Champion of Battle — will you step into the place of Regent and serve our City of Stars to the best of your ability?"
His silver gaze strayed once again to the object of his heart, the tines that were twined with that fateful silver chain. He couldn't help it — a smile swelled upon his black lips.
"And Isorath Flamekeeper, as our most diplomatic citizen, will you step into the position of Emissary and serve your new Kingdom?"
Reichenbach was loathe to turn away from the Kirin, long lashed eyes straining for a moment before searching for the other Court members — Rostislav, his Warden, whom had visited Florentine only days after whisper of war had been upon the air, and whom had been missing for too long beforehand. He would need to make amends for that absence, or risk being replaced. Then Lyra, whom he knew had been searching for the perfect Council, Araxes... his little bird whom had been so injured both physically and mentally he did not know if she would even want to continue serving (yet another reason Reichenbach needed to pay Torstein a visit...) and Seree, whom had also been far too absent in such stringent times.
"If any should wish to serve in our Court, please step forth and state your intention now."
I'M A MAN, DON'T SPIN ME A LIE,
GOT TOES AND I CAN SMILE,
I'M CROOKED BUT UPRIGHT.
@Aislinn @Isorath @Seree @Araxes @Lyra @Rostislav
A little Court refresher!! If you'd like to keep your current position within the Court please respond — all positions are open to new blood also, so if you think your character would do well within the Court please reply! <3 <3
GOT TOES AND I CAN SMILE,
I'M CROOKED BUT UPRIGHT.
@Aislinn @Isorath @Seree @Araxes @Lyra @Rostislav
A little Court refresher!! If you'd like to keep your current position within the Court please respond — all positions are open to new blood also, so if you think your character would do well within the Court please reply! <3 <3
